Friday, October 31, 2014

Robert Fisher was driving his own Kentworth tractor-trailer truck on a two-lane highway crossing the Nevada desert. He was carrying a load of corrugated sheet steel to the surface base of the Uptimers. Even though he was a Minnesota resident this was where the work was and the fact that he was an independent owner-operator was also a factor in his continued employment. The Uptimers continued their flat out refusal to hire anyone connected to a union, especially the Teamsters.

He was still ten miles out from the front gate of the base when a county sheriff's car came up behind his unit and started flashing the lights. Bob decided to pull over but as he did he hit the panic button on the GPS unit installed in the tractor as instructed by the Uptimers. Unless there was another emergency to deal with the alert squad of Rangers would shortly come out.

After both vehicles came to a full stop the deputy sheriff walked up to truck.

He spoke to Fisher.

“Sir, do you know why you were pulled over?”

“No.”

“You were speeding.”

Fisher shook his head.

“Deputy,” he said, “I’m carrying too much weight to be speeding.”

The deputy was clearly upset that Fisher had rebuked him.

“My radar gun says you were speeding!”

The GPS unit beeped. Fisher briefly turned to read the text message on the screen. The alert squad of Rangers was on the way.

He decided to talk the deputy out of this nonsense before the Rangers showed up.

“Deputy,” he said, “this tractor unit is fitted with a Global Positioning System unit.”

“So what?”

“The GPS was developed on the original timeline by the United States Navy to precisely track the position and speed of ballistic missile submarines. The People from the future brought a full set of GPS satellites and ground units with them in case they had to do work on the Earth. And according my GPS tracker I wasn’t speeding.”

The deputy was now visibly angry. He pulled out his service revolver.

“Get out of the truck! Now!”

Suddenly there were two sonic booms. The deputy looked up in shock.

Fisher spoke again.

“Deputy, I called for assistance from the Uptimers, you should place the gun on the ground and your hands on top of your head.”

The deputy raised his revolver higher and shouted again.

“GET OUT OF THE TRUCK! NOW!”

There was a sudden flash of light. Fisher looked down and saw that apart from the skull, spinal column and rib cage, which had turned to carbon, every part of the deputy above the pelvis had been turned to smoke.

“Shit.” He said.

Fisher had seen similar but far bloodier fatal injuries inflicted by the Communists on his fellow Marines in the Korean War.

The four Rangers stepped out of the squad lander as it slowly passed over the site. The landing jets on the suits slowed their descent to landing. The squad leader bounced up to where Fisher was parked. He then opened his helmet to speak.

“Damn.” He said. “He asked for it.”

“He was clearly not paying attention, Sergeant Burnette.”

Fisher could see the name and rank of the Ranger printed in black on the front of the suit. The insignia used straight chevrons similar to those used by the Israelis, but in this case the rank of Staff Sergeant was indicated by four stripes.

“Okay,” said Staff Sergeant Burnette, “this idiot pulls you over for speeding even though you weren’t, and then pulls his weapon on you when you argued with him.”

“Yes,” said Fisher, “and he got real upset when the lander and the gunship appeared.”

Bob Fisher could only nod. He had not yet read the full story on The Reformation but from what little information he had it was clearly a cleanup of a serious mess.

Burnette looked about before speaking again.

“What we can do is this, we can have the squad lander and gunship fly overhead and my guys can ride on the trailer the rest of the way to the base.”

“That’ll work.” Fisher replied.

In his office Senator Edward Kennedy received a visitor. Douglas Green was employed by the Republican National Committee in Washington. But for some reason he needed to speak to the senator immediately and in private.

“So what is this about?” Said Kennedy.

“You’ve heard about the publication of The Concept Of Government?”

“Yes,” said Kennedy, “I’ve been told that it’s a load of fascist trash”

“There’s an unexpurgated version being distributed within the Republican Party. And it’s worse than that--much worse.”

Green opened a small brown paper bag like those used by certain bookstores, pulled out a copy of a soft cover book, and handed it to Kennedy. The title was the same but the name of the author was clearly printed on the cover.

The author was named Allen Keller.

“In what way is this version worse?” Kennedy asked.

Green answered.

“This version gives a clear history of the event the Uptimers call The Reformation, basically the extermination of the Democratic Party. And it gives the identity of those who carried it out, including the founder of the successor state, The Federation.”

“And who carried out the murders and founded this so-called federation?”

“The then sitting governor of the state of Minnesota, John Andrew March.”

As Kennedy paged through the copy he didn’t notice the four digit number stamped on the inside of the cover. And he had absolutely no clue that there was a printed computer chip incorporated into the spine of the book.

His thought at the time was that something would have to be done about those monsters.

At the Ground Base in Nevada Lieutenant March was meeting with Bob Fisher.

“Bob, when was the last time you went home to see your family?’

“About a month ago, why?”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to leave the area until things calm down. According to my list here we have a load going outbound to Minneapolis. Interested/”

Fisher nodded.

“Yes.” He said.

“Okay, it’s going out tomorrow to Honeywell.”

At that moment a message popped up with a beep on her desktop screen.

March spoke again.

“Bob, I have to meet with someone, can you go out the side door?”

“Yes.”

Once Fisher was clear of her office she pressed down on the intercom button.

“Okay, bring him in.”

Two Rangers dragged a bound and gagged man in mock western attire into the office and dropped him on the floor. He was a member of the county board. March walked around her desk and bent down to pull off the piece of duct tape from his mouth.

She then spoke.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?”

He spat back.

“You fucking bitch!”

“Really,” she replied, “do you understand the concept of courtesy, let along the meaning of the word No?”

“You have nothing on me, bitch!”

“On the contrary, the county sheriff was very clear when he said that you ordered the harassment of truckers making deliveries here.”

“That lying son of a bitch!”

March shook her head.

“No. It’s amazing how truthful someone can be when a gun is placed directly on the forehead. Your effort to get a piece of our action has only annoyed us and resulted in the death of one of your deputies. Needless to say it has to end.”

“You bitch! You won’t get away with this!”

“I’m not getting away with anything.” She calmly relied.

Lieutenant March then drew her sidearm, a M1911A1, and placed a single round in the commissioner’s head.

Monday, October 27, 2014

The hanger was sealed and repressurized. The Soyuz spacecraft had been secured to the deck. To Boatman’s eyes it was clearly a relic of an ancient day. The green fireproof nomex fabric that covered the reentry and mission modules of the spacecraft gleamed in the light of the hangar deck.

The Ranger honor guard in their deep green dress uniforms had secured their feet to the deck with grip shoes. Both Alice and Judith as well as captain sterling were wearing communication headsets that were linked to the cluster of supercomputers that controlled the Eagle. For this event the headsets included a small speaker which would broadcast the translation of individuals speech in Russian. Evelyn alone was not wearing a headset.

The loudspeakers blared.

“Soviet Visitors, arriving.”

As if this were the signal to act the docking hatch of the mission module opened and the two men floated forth into the hangar.

Both Leonov and Gorbachev had changed to their mission uniforms for the meeting. Upon their egress in free fall Boatman spoke to them clearly in Russian.

“Welcome gentlemen to the starship Eagle, I am Evelyn Boatman.”

“You speak Russian?” Said Gorbachev.

“Yes, Mikhail Sergeyevich.” Boatman replied. “This vessel was originally designed to cross interstellar space at one fifth the speed of light. With acceleration and braking the journey to Alpha Centauri would take about twenty five years. As you can imagine this gives a new meaning to the concept of boredom. As I had time to catch up on some reading I chose to read Tsiolkovsky and Korolev in the original Russian.”

“And Lenin?” Gorbachev asked.

“No,” said Boatman, “of course not, I leave psychotics to the correct professionals.”

“Of course.” Gorbachev replied.

Boatman then stepped with the grip shoes towards Leonov and extended his hand.

“Cosmonaut Leonov,” he said, “it is an honor to meet you, sir.”

Leonov took and shook Boatman’s hand.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome” He replied. “Allow me to introduce these good people. First this is Captain Dennis Sterling, the commander of the Eagle.”

Captain Sterling nodded and put forth his hand to be shook. Cosmonaut Leonov and Gorbachev responded in kind.

“This is my adopted daughter, Doctor Alice Boatman.”

Alice said the word, “Hello.” This was translated into Russian and transmitted back by her communications set.

“And this is Judith Grant, she is presently receiving treatment for some severe injuries she received on the ground.”

Both of the Russians had read of the incident in Dallas. And both decided at that point to simply nod.

Boatman then looked at the Soyuz spacecraft and spoke to Leonov.

“You’re flying with the standard heat shield on this mission?”

“Yes.” Leonov replied.

Boatman frowned and shook his head.

“While Russians do tend to be a bit conservative in engineering you still have more energy to bleed off during reentry from this altitude.” He said. “Would you accept a ride down to a lower orbit before attempting reentry?”

“Yes.” Said Leonov. “We would.”

“Yes.” Said Gorbachev.

“Of we’ll have to secure the spacecraft to the deck, with your permission.” Said Boatman.

“Of course.” Leonov replied.

“And while that is taken care of, we could do a short tour of the ship.”

“That would be good.” Said Cosmonaut Leonov.

“Yes, thank you.” Said Gorbachev.

After a set of grip shoes had been issued to the cosmonauts, the group made their way to the main engine room.

“And this is the primary control station for the Quantum Singularity Drive. “ Said Boatman.

He brought up and image on the primary large flat screen monitor. The grey image showed an grid with a distortion at the center.

Boatman spoke.

“What you are seeing on this image is not the singularity itself but the distorting effect of the gravitational pull.”

Gorbachev spoke.

“A physicist at Moscow University told us that you have recreated the gravitational effects of a frozen star on the subatomic level.”

“Essentially, yes.”

Gorbachev had used the Russian term for the phenomena. The English term Black Hole translated directly into Russian was unfortunately and commonly used as a rude anatomical reference.

Leonov then spoke.

“If I under stood the concept correctly you generate usable energy by dropping matter into the singularity?”

“Yes,” Boatman replied, “protons and electrons in the process of being gravitationally merged into neutrons give off photons which in turn are used to heat up normal matter. Which then leads to this...”

Boatman changed the image on the screen to a diagram of the larger drive section.

“...in the normal rocket mode for insystem propulsion at lower velocities we use ordinary hydrogen for the reaction mass, but for interstellar flight we scoop the mass from outside of the ship.”

“As in the Bussard Ramjet?” Said Leonov.

“Yes, but there are some difficulties.” Boatman replied.

“I’m sorry.” Said Gorbachev, “but what is a Bussard Ramjet?”

To Gorbachev the mission commander’s face had taken on the appearance of a university lecturer who had just joyously discovered a dullard in his classroom. Unfortunately for Gorbachev the dullard was him.

Boatman spoke.

“The ramjet was proposed as a means of starship propulsion by Doctor Robert Bussard, in this the system would magnetically scoop the hydrogen in interstellar space and use it as fuel for a fusion rocket. But there were two basic problems with the concept. The first is that artificial thermonuclear fusion requires neutrons in the nucleus of the fuel. Thus our use of Deuterium and Helium-3 as fusion fuels. The second is that maximum velocity of the system is limited to the exhaust velocity of the rocket motor. Which on the Eagle is twenty percent of the speed of light. Now this configuration of the system is generally known as the Ram Augmented Interstellar Rocket.”

Cosmonaut Leonov had a question.

“As I understand it, Hydrogen is magnetically neutral, so how can it be magnetically scooped up?”

“Good question,” said Boatman, “In our system we use a laser to separate the electrons from the proton core. So the protons are then scooped in and used as the reaction mass.”

Saturday, October 25, 2014

Mikhail Gorbachev could hear the engines of the first stage fire at
about ten seconds from the end of the countdown. At the point of zero
the clamps holding the Proton launcher and the Soyuz payload to the pad
let go. Gorbachev felt his weight multiply by an order of magnitude as
the rocket lifted from the pad.

“Let's see.” Lieutenant Siekmann said as he floated from the command seat over to the sensor station.

It was the Proton launcher they had been tracking. At first it only had
a standard shroud for an unmanned payload installed on it. Then it
had been brought back from the launchpad to the assembly hall. The
Proton was then returned to the pad with the payload shroud for a Soyuz
orbiter on it.

Now the Soviets were actually launching it.

“Very good.” Siekmann said as the first stage of the Proton dropped off. “Let's continue to track it.”

In discussion it was speculated that the initial payload may have been a
weapon. With the launch of a Soyuz it appeared that the Soviets had
second thoughts about a hostile act and were now attempting a contact
mission.

On the command deck of the Eagle the Soyuz spacecraft was also being tracked.

Judith Grant was also watching the proceedings on the command deck. She
was doing so while standing up, having recovered sufficiently enough to
do so.

“So who would be aboard it?” She asked.

“Good question.” Evelyn replied. “The command pilot should be Alexi
Leonov, he's now the senior cosmonaut since Gagarin died, I have no idea
who would be in the second seat.”

“No idea at all?”

“Well it wouldn't be any member of the Politburo. Remember, the
Communist leadership as a general rule sees other people as something to
be used, not one of them will risk their own necks on a contact mission
no matter how desperate the situation on the ground may appear. Under
the circumstances they'll send someone up who may be up and coming in
their system but is still expendable. At this point I could only guess
who it is and the guess would likely be wrong.”

Judith nodded. Evelyn then spoke again.

“But the fun part will be the question of how do they get back down?”

“Doesn't the Soyuz have a heat shield?”

“Yes, but it was designed for reentry from a low orbit. A reentry from
this altitude would have more energy to bleed off and would require a
heavier heat shield.”

Judith nodded in thought and then spoke.

“So if they are using their standard heat shield the Russians would need a ride home?”

“Yes.” Evelyn smiled as he replied.

President Nixon was notified of the launch. He was also told that the Uptimers had the situation under control.

Both men had remained in their pressure suits during the flight to high
orbit. Gorbachev patiently waited and kept his hands to himself as the
Soyuz approached the Eagle. He had no idea how to read the gauges
aboard the spacecraft and touched nothing because he wanted to avoid a
fatal foul up.

“Damn...” Said Leonov. “There was just a jump in neutron readings, then it’s gone.”

“What does it mean?” Said Gorbachev.

“No idea, it could be natural.” Said Leonov. “But I would seriously reconsider any plans for fatherhood.”

Suddenly an unfamiliar voice in Russian spoke over the ground to space communications channel.

“Soyuz spacecraft, this is the starship Eagle, do you copy?’

Leonov answered.

“Yes Eagle, we copy.”

“Very good, as we do not have a docking port that is compatible with the
Soyuz we wish to bring you aboard through one of our landing craft
airlocks, will that be a problem?”

Leonov turned to look at Gorbachev. Gorbachev looked back and shook his head.

“No, Eagle” Said Leonov. “That will not be a problem.”

On the command deck Boatman turned to Captain Sterling.

“Right, do it as we planned.”

In the mission control center in Moscow the Mission Director listened as
Leonov sent a progress report on the contact with the Uptimers. But
then a mid-level Party Man who was sent to supervise the mission
suddenly jumped up and shouted.

“No!” He shouted. “No! Stop the docking! It is forbidden to surrender state secrets!”

“What state secrets?” Said the Mission Director.

“The Soyuz spacecraft! It’s at the front line of Soviet technology!”

The Mission Director and others in the room shook their heads.

“There has already been a discussion on this. The Star People are from
the 24th Century, to them the Soyuz is a historic relic, and there are
no state secrets to preserve.”

A KGB Colonel in uniform in the mission control center then spoke.

“Comrade, They are using Thermonuclear Fusion as the power source for
their auxiliary generators. And their primary power plant uses the
effects of a frozen star at the microscopic level to generate thrust and
power.”

The Colonel was assigned to the project to understand the Uptimers and
had read the translated transcript of the 60 Minutes broadcast. He then
asked a friend at Moscow University to explain the concept of the
Quantum Singularity.

“You may as well classify the plans for an old winter sleigh.” He said.
“In any case, perhaps you should take a break from the stress of this
situation.”

The way the Colonel had phrased it was an order and not a suggestion.
The Party Man looked at the two junior KGB officers who had just stood
up behind the Colonel.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Senator Edward M. Kennedy had set aside some time after his normal
three-martini lunch to see a lobbyist. The subject of the meeting was
the people from the future and the question of what to do about them?
Kenneth Hudson was an old school lobbyist from Minnesota and had come to
Washington after the initial election of Hubert Humphrey as senator and
with the rest of the Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party crowd from that
state. Kennedy despised the lot of them but kept silent lest they
become open opponents to his own rise to power. And there was no
question that after his rise to the White House that there would ever be
any more opposition from the Right for him to contend with.

After the initial ritual of shaking hand taking seats Kennedy spoke.

“So Ken, what did you need to see me about?”

“It’s the people from the future, I tried to see them again, yesterday.”

“Why?” Kennedy replied. “They hate us and they are total fascist
trash. They’ve made no secret of it, that ship of theirs will have to
be destroyed and what’s left of them on the ground will have to confined
for the rest of their lives. We can’t have them continuing to
contaminate our people with their insane ideas.”

“I know that,” said Hudson, “I know that now.”

Kennedy had received a review copy of The Concept Of Government from a
sympathizer in the publishing industry. The content of the anonymously
authored work was nothing less than appalling.

“Throughout its history the fundamental value of the Democratic Party
was power. As with the Communists and National Socialists in Eurasia,
they had sought absolute power over everyone in their domain, the United
States of America. And as with the predecessors the power over their
victims was exercised without any restraint whatsoever. As a result it
became absolutely necessary to remove the Democratic Party from power
and permanently eliminate the basic structure and the intellectual
infrastructure that supported it.”

The method of elimination wasn’t described in the text but it was easy
for him to guess. The tract in general was absolutely appalling. And
there was no question that whoever wrote it had to be found, punished,
and permanently silenced.

“So tell me what happened.” Kennedy asked.

Hudson began.

“I heard that the bitch that shot the Teamsters rep had been replaced by
the ship’s engineer. With the bitch replaced by what should be a
dullard I decided to give them another chance for a meeting.”

“And what did you find?”

“I walked right into their office and there is a girl, a teenage girl,
sitting at the secretary’s desk. Seriously, she had long brown hair and
big granny glasses on like a schoolgirl, and she was dressed as a slut.
This was obviously somebody’s little girl playing at being a executive
secretary. So I decided to play along. The little slut immediately
stands up and points one of their Sci-Fi guns, like they used on our
cops in Minneapolis, right at me and orders me to leave. Can you
believe that?”

Kennedy nodded.

“With those people I would have to believe anything.” He said.

“Can something be done about them?” Asked Hudson.

“Something will be done about them.” Senator Kennedy replied.

Ken Hudson had not told Senator Kennedy the full story.

Hudson had entered the office unannounced. There he found what was
clearly a girl who appeared to be no older than 14 years old and was
dressed as an obvious slut. He was not aware that this was a Monty
Python Monday at the office and that the secretary was dressed as the
receptionist character played by Carol Cleveland in the Travel Agent
Sketch. The custom made long sleeved red dress was clearly designed to
show off the still developing cleavage of her current incarnation.

For Hudson the surrealness of the environment was ramped up a notch when
the obvious schoolgirl spoke with a clearly mature if cheerful tone of
voice.

“May I help you?” She said.

Hudson replied.

“I’m Kenneth Hudson, I’m here see the new...”

“She was looking down at the screen of her workstation when she spoke.

“Just a moment...Mister Hudson...you are a Democratic Party activist and
were ejected from this office. And you were told never to return.”

Hudson spoke up.

“Now see here...”

The apparent girl stood up and drew a Gauss pistol from a holster under
the desktop. She pointed it straight at his head. He could clearly see
that the sights of the pistol were aligned between her right eye and
his own right eye.

“You won’t get away with murder.” He said.

“Of course not,” she replied, “this event is being recorded and will be
replayed at any hearing held by my superiors aboard the Eagle, and I
will be cleared of all charges.”

Hudson couldn’t respond.

She spoke again.

“Now, for the last time, get out!”

Hudson raised his hands and backed away, he then turned the quickly walked out the door.

He initially went to the police in Arlington, Virginia to file a complaint.

“What do you want me to do?” Said the desk sergeant. “Commit suicide?”

“I want you to arrest that slut!”

“No Mister Hudson,” said the obviously graying desk sergeant, “you want
me to help you pretend that you had valid business in there. First, it
is a diplomatic legation. Sovereign nations tend to get upset when
their legations are violated. And the people from Alpha Centauri are
clearly a sovereign nation. Second, they told you to never come back
again. What part of this order did you not understand? And third, that
girl you are complaining about is probably older than both of my
grandmothers combined, those folks from Alpha Centauri are funny that
way.”

The fact was that Sergeant Charles Burns of the Arlington Police had
already met Miss Victoria Grosse and had dated her. He also knew that
she was two years into her fourth incarnation, and that with great age
came great sexual experience.

She also made it clear that in the long run he should find someone closer to his own age.

On the mess deck of the Eagle Alice and Judith were having breakfast. Judith spoke.

“Alice, could I ask you a personal question?”

“You can ask.”

“Are you a lesbian?”

Doctor Alice Boatman looked up from her breakfast. She clearly did not
expect this question. But then a friendly visit from the Spanish
Inquisition would have seemed more likely to her.

She gave Judith the straight answer.

“I’ve tried it, but I would rather do normal sexual intercourse.”

“Oh.” Said Judith.

Now Alice had her own question.

“So what brought up the question?”

“Um...I tried it myself.”

“Was it a summer camp or a boarding school?” Asked Alice.

“Summer camp.” Said Judith.

It was at this time that Evelyn appeared at the table with his usual
breakfast of four scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browned potatoes, which
was all covered with cheese sauce, and a glass of chocolate milk.

“Did I miss anything?” He asked.

Alice gave the straight answer.

“An intimate conversation about girl stuff.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow as he sat down. He then spoke again.

“Have you touched on why you’re not married yet?”

“Dad! You know why!”

Judith had to ask the next question.

“Alice, why not?”

Alice closed her eyes for a moment before calmly answering the question.

“There were only about a million men in the Alpha Centauri system
altogether, and most of them were the wrong age or already married.”

The Evelyn spoke.

“This touches on why we mounted the rescue expedition to begin with.
The fact of the matter is that the more functioning minds there are in a
society the better off everyone in that society is in general. We
didn’t come here out of altruism but out of a selfish desire to improve
our own condition in the long run.”

“The more the merrier?” Said Judith.

“That’s one way to put it.” Evelyn replied.

A thought suddenly came to Alice’s mind.

“Remember what the dormouse said, feed your head...”

On that afternoon an Aeroflot passenger jet transport touched down at
the Vienna airport. It carried a delegation from North Vietnam.

The rulers of the remnant of the Communist state in the north had
decided to throw in the towel. Virtually the entire apparatus of the
Communist State had been incinerated by the Uptimers from orbit. And
there was no means by which they could continue the war of aggression
against the Republic of Vietnam in the south. The only course of action
open to the Communists was to seek peace on any terms.

In New York City the United Nations General Assembly continued their refusal to accept a delegation from the Republic of Biafra.

On Mars a mixed group of uptimers and American Astronauts walked up to
the rim of Valles Marineris, the Great Canyon of Mars. The Americans
were originally trained and equipped for walking on the Moon. But the
spaceship Owl and her landers were available and the adapters were
fabricated to allow the recharging of the life support systems of the
suits from the Uptimer systems.

One of the Americans spoke to another.

“Jim, this is astounding!”

Jim Lovell looked out across the canyon. He had never thought that this
day would have come. The appearance of the Uptimers was a surprise.
The history files they brought back had been a shock to everyone at
NASA. Lovell had personally watched as the service module that had been
allocated to the Apollo 13 mission was taken apart for examination.
And he was there when the faulty wiring in the fuel cell system that
would have failed was exposed to the full view of everyone.

Now he was walking on the planet Mars. But he wasn’t simply playing a
tourist. One of the goals of the mission was to confirm the history
files on the physical resources of the red planet. The resources had
been discovered and developed by colonists in the original timeline.
They were here to perform a survey to verify those records.

There was much work to be done.

In Dallas within the headquarters of the former William Grant Ministries his widow Katherine was in a deep state of rage.

On the table in the boardroom was the latest issue of The New Yorker
magazine. It was open to a page with a cartoon. The cartoon depicted a
terrestrial human having a conversation with what would eventually
become known as a Gray Alien. The alien was speaking to the human.

“Oh yes. Jesus came to us too, we gave him some candy and he comes back
to us every couple of weeks. Why, what did you guys do?”

To the Reverend George Muller it was clear to him that if the Widow
Grant didn’t calm down she would blow a blood vessel in the brain.

He spoke calmly.

“Katherine, they are not mocking our Lord Jesus Christ, they are mocking
mere mortal men, and honestly most men these days could use a good
mocking.”

The Widow Grant spun to face Reverend Muller. With the whites of her eyes fully visible as she responded.

“How can you say that?”

Muller calmly replied.

“Because it’s the truth.”

The Widow Grant stared at him silently. Again Muller spoke.

“In this case what The New Yorker did was to reprint a cartoon that
originated a bit over fifty years from now on the original timeline.”

The Widow Grant was livid. She shouted back at Muller.

“You believe the lies of the creations of Satan?”

Muller gently shook his head before calmly replying.

“Katherine, only God may create life and matter, and the fallen angel has no power except that which WE grant to him.”

Monday, October 20, 2014

This is a very realistic war film which clearly depicts the horrors of war, particularly against a totalitarian state. And if anything it has reinforced my long standing contempt for peace activists and pacifists in general.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Dan Rather sat back in his New York City residence. He was still
quietly fuming. When the proposal was made to send Mike Wallace up to
the starship Eagle he objected on the grounds that he was younger and
healthier and therefore he should go up.

“No Dan,” said Wallace, “apparently your counterpart on the original
timeline had committed a serious breach of ethics and as a result the
Uptimers want nothing to do with you here and now.”

From Rather’s perspective Wallace had pitched several softballs to the
Uptimers. They were clearly enemies of Progress and fully deserved to
have been ripped a new one on the air.

The thought that Rather would have been sent out an airlock did not occur to him.

In Huntsville Werner Von Braun and several members of his NASA team had also watched the broadcast.

He spoke up.

“Boatman never mentioned the fact that the design for the Integral was based on his own Master’s thesis at Cal Tech.”

“Why should he?” Said John Linden. “He actually designed and built all
of the other starships. And let’s face it, he was virtually standing
on some tall shoulders while doing so.”

Werner Von Braun quietly wondered when his friend Evelyn Boatman would
ever get around to writing a doctoral thesis on starship design. He
seriously wanted to read it.

In the White House President Nixon had also watched the broadcast with his family.

In his opinion Boatman was clearly a master of political spin. At no
point were the natives of Eden mentioned or any word of their fate. And
the story of Alice Boatman’s existence aboard the Integral would
silence all but the most insane critics of her actions in Dallas. There
was no question that the Reverend Grant had asked for it. But
sometimes a nose has to be rubbed into a pile of excrement before
someone got the point.

The rest of the First Family simply sat back in silence.

Across the nation’s capital Senator Edward Kennedy sat back on the sofa
alone with a shot glass and an open bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey.

He was fully appalled at the news of a future where people acted without
any guidance from their betters, or to act without any other social
restraint.

He thought, and then he took another slug from the shot glass.

Something absolutely must be done to stop these monsters.

In the city of Minneapolis former Vice President Humphrey had also watched the broadcast.

How can they live with themselves? He thought. How could they act
on their own and abandon the Human Race? How could they show absolutely
no remorse for their actions? How could they be so selfish?

In his Minneapolis apartment Thomas Archer, professor of English
Literature at the University of Minnesota, switched off his television
set.

Those liars! He thought. Those absolute fucking liars!

How can I promote Peace and Social Justice when it was possible to
freely contradict me? And how dare that lying fascist bitch say that
she was raped as a little girl by a Progressive leader?

It was now clear to him.

The so-called freedom of speech is in fact the freedom to lie, and it has to be stopped once and for all!

In campus dormitories across the nation the empty spaces between the
ears of the drones of the student collective were filled with the same
set of notions.

Everything about them is wrong! They have technology without
restraint. They have power without restraint! They can do anything to
anyone they want! They are the enemies of Peace and Progress! They
must be stopped! They must be stopped by any means possible! They must
be stopped!

Doctor Mark Goldman was doing rounds on his shift in the Emergency Room
of Parkland Hospital. A nurse suddenly walked up and spoke to him.

Katherine Grant had watched the broadcast with several senior staff members of her late husband’s ministry.

She had reached a point of absolute anger beyond anything she had ever
experienced. A black rage had taken over her consciousness and it left
her fully blocked from any light of truth.

As far as Katherine was concerned there was absolutely no question that
the Boatman family and their crew were the creations and the servants of
Satan. And there was no absolutely question that they had pulled her
daughter into their web of lies and condemned her to eternal damnation.

Judith was gone.

It was not the fact that she was aboard the starship whose reality she
fully denied. It was the fact that she had fully renounced faith in God
and path of eternal salvation. Judith had fully renounced the Lord
Jesus Christ.

And there was no going back.

And it all began with Ayn Rand.

That godless Russian Jewish whore Ayn Rand!

Something had to be done. Something had to be done before more helpless souls would be lost to that whore and her lies.

With that thought her ministry formally began.

In their own home in California Robert and Virginia Heinlein had also watched the broadcast.

Monday, October 13, 2014

It had been a relatively quiet week across the United States and around
the world. The Mafia as well as the Teamsters and other unions
continued to be frustrated in their efforts to infiltrate the Uptimer
base in Nevada. And at the Baikonur Cosmodrome a Proton rocket with a
Soyuz capsule as a payload was rolled out of the assembly hall to the
launch pad as Colonel Leonov and Comrade Gorbachev watched.

In New York Mr. Black reported to The Committee of his failure to
infiltrate the Uptimer base and to suborn a Uptimer or any employee on
the base. As a result he would never seen alive by anyone again.

At 7 PM Eastern Time on Sunday in many living rooms and commercial
lodgings across the United States millions of people sat down and waited
in anticipation of that week’s broadcast of the 60 Minutes program on
the CBS Network. With some interruptions for commercial breaks the
program would begin with the history of the settlement of the Alpha
Centauri system on the original timeline. For this broadcast Mike
Wallace had interviewed Evelyn Boatman and others aboard the Eagle.

“How did your journey begin?” Said Wallace.

Boatman answered.

“From my perspective it began with two meetings at Cal Tech. The first
was at the astronomy department which owned the Niven Deep Space
Observatory, this was an automated platform which has built by our
family firm.”

“Can you describe the platform?”

“Yes,” said Boatman, “The mission of the NDSO, which was named for
science fiction author Larry Niven, was to detect and observe neutron
stars. Which are stars that have burned out and collapsed into a mass
of pure neutrons. It was at the meeting that Doctor Bob Petrov, the
head of the project, told me that one of their objects, which was
designated Niven-69, was on a course that took it through the Solar
System.”

“Was it expected to hit anything?” Wallace asked.

It had been a long time since anyone had asked Evelyn Boatman that question.

“Mike, Niven-69 was what we call a neutron star, this is a dead star and
it was roughly the mass of our sun. It simply doesn’t have to hit
anything. The gravitational effect alone would have altered the orbits
of every planet in the Solar System, including the Earth. The Earth
would have been shifted from the life zone of the Sun to an orbit that
was either too close or too far to support life. And the neutron star
could have caused some of the planets to be ejected from the system
entirely.”

“So did it eject the Earth?”

“I have no idea Mike, we had already left the Solar System long before the passage of the object.”

“So what happened next at Cal Tech?”

“I brought Bob Petrov to my next meeting at the Jet Propulsion
Laboratory. The big project at the JPL was the Daedalus, an automated
sublight probe that was originally proposed by the British Interstellar
Society in 1975.”

“1975?” Said Wallace.

“Yes,” Boatman replied, “on the original timeline. As proposed the
mission was to Barnard's Star, which was at the time believed to have
some planetary bodies.”

“And did it?”

“We would eventually perform a test flight with the FTL Drive on the
Eagle to Barnard's Star. All we found there was a small gas giant
planet in the Neptune/Uranus class and some airless rocks.”

“So what happened at the JPL?”

“Our original target for the Daedalus was the Sirius system. After Bob
and told the committee at JPL about Niven-69 they immediately decided to
send the Daedalus to Alpha Centauri to find habitable planets.”

“And the Daedalus found two?”

“Yes, there was Eden, in orbit around Alpha Centauri A. And also Zion, which was orbiting Alpha Centauri B.”

At this point the digital images of the planets had been transferred to film for the program.

Wallace asked the next question.

“So once the public announcement of the existence of Niven-69 and the
expected effects of its passage was made you went to work on designing
the ships that would save Humanity?”

“Well, we would save some people, yes.” Said Boatman. “The first
concept was called Exodus, it would use a derivative of the fusion pulse
propulsion system used on the Daedalus. The. Daedalus had used two
stages to reach twenty percent of the speed of light. On the Exodus the
first stage would go to ten percent of lightspeed and the second stage
would bring the ship back to zero. Most of the passengers would be
carried in hibernation. Which was developed as a means to slow
biological functions and save supplies during long trips to the outer
parts of the Solar System. The expected operational ratio was nine
years in hibernation and one year out during the length of the voyage.
But as time passed new technologies were developed and incorporated into
the design.”

“Such as?”

“The first was cryostasis, in this a person is cryogenically frozen and
revived at the destination. This used radically less mass for life
support and allowed a radical redesign to carry more passegers on the
ship. The second technology was recorporation. Here a sample of
genetic material is taken and the memories of the person are recorded.
The person is than recreated at the destination. By trading off a small
number of people in cryostasis for recorporation we were able to
recreate a radically larger number of people at Alpha Centauri.
Ultimately five units of the Exodus class were built and launched.”

“But that wasn’t all?”

“No, there was a radical advance in the technology of propulsion, the Quantum Singularity Drive.”

“Can you explain it?”

Boatman shook his head.

“I would be hard pressed to explain it to anyone with less than a current Masters degree in Physics. It’s that advanced.”

“Could it be described as magic?”

“Mister Wallace, there’s no such thing as magic, but there are some
advanced concepts that require a high level of knowledge to fully
understand.”

Wallace nodded and Boatman continued.

“Only two ships were completed with the drive, the Eagle, which was the
prototype for the system, and the Mayflower. The other ships that were
laid down were destroyed before completion.”

“Why?”

“We were rudely interrupted, the central government on Earth decided
that they were to be complete control of all emigration from the Solar
System. As a result all shipbuilding facilities not under their control
were destroyed.”

“That’s insane!” Said Wallace.

“Yes,” Boatman replied, “so was Communism. On the original timeline
Communist regimes had run up a body count of not less than a hundred
million human lives. Apparently the rulers on the Earth didn’t care who
lived or died as long as they were in command.”

Mike Wallace would ask another question.

“But there was one more ship that departed from the Solar System?”

“Yes, , there was. There were some indications that it had another name
originally, but it arrived at Eden as the Integral. It was built to
carry 10,000 live passengers but it only arrived with a bit over 2,000
aboard. When it arrived there was a fully communist society in place, a
virtual gulag.”

“A gulag?” Said Wallace.

“I forgot,” Boatman replied, “that term is not in common usage at this
time. A gulag is a slave labor camp established and run by the Soviet
state.”

The next segment began with an digital image of the starship Integral.

This vessel had used the Orion nuclear fission pulse drive and it
arrived roughly fifty standard years after the arrival of the five units
of the Exodus class.

Mike Wallace began by introducing his next guest, Doctor Alice Boatman.

“Doctor Boatman, you were born aboard the Integral?”

“Yes.”

“Can you describe it?”

“How does one describe a prison surrounded by hard vacuum? And it was
worse than a mere prison. No one aboard had a name, everyone had an
alpha-numeric designation tattooed on their forearm at birth. There was
one exception, he was known as the Core of Humanity. He apparently led
the overthrow of the original commanders of the ship and established
the Communist system aboard. He then used the cryostasis system
installed for extreme medical emergencies to preserve himself until
arrival at Alpha Centauri.”

“What was your role aboard the ship?”

“I was initially used for labor within the ship. But when I was twelve
standard years old the ship had arrived at Eden in the Alpha Centauri
system and I was to be used as an object of sexual gratification for the
Core.”

“What happened to him?”

“The Core was put to death upon arrival by a real government for rape and other crimes.”

“So you were adopted by Evelyn Boatman and his wife Doctor Cheryl Boatman, can you describe the experience?”

Alice sat back and thought, and then she answered.

“Up to that point I was not actually living as a person, I was an object
to be used. And suddenly I was rescued by real soldiers and brought to
a wondrous land, on the ground I was being taught how to be an actual
person. To perceive and think and live as a fully human being. And I
was eventually asked to choose a name for myself. MY OWN SELF! Under
the wondrous circumstances I chose the name of Alice.”

Wallace nodded his head again and then asked another question.

“So how did your experience on the Integral influence your actions on the ground in Dallas?”

“With regard to William Grant?”

“Yes.”

Doctor Boatman thought for another moment.

“It didn’t”

Wallace was apparently surprised to hear that.

“It didn’t?”

“Correct.”

“Can you explain?”

“Yes,”said Doctor Boatman, “everyone in the field of medicine has
encounters with irrational individuals. That’s simply unavoidable, and
when it happens we must dispassionately treat such behavior as if it
were another disorder, such as a cancerous tumor. William Grant was a
very seriously irrational man. He saw himself as being exempt from the
rational standards of law and personal conduct. At Parkland Hospital he
physically blocked the transfer of a severely injured patient from
transfer to the Eagle where she would have received advanced treatment.”

“Even though the patient was his daughter?”

“Yes,” said Doctor Boatman, “as he caused the injuries the notion of
parental consent was already out the airlock. The individual was
clearly insane, he saw other people such as his daughter as objects to
be used. In this case it was a form of spiritual gratification instead
of physical gratification as in the case of The Core. He beat Judith
because she was actively thinking for herself. He was demonstrating his
insanity by physically blocking egress and emitting an absolutely vile
degree of verbal abuse. I asked the police officer present to remove
Grant from the path of egress. When the officer refused to do so it had
become clear that there was no functional government in place. We hold
that in the absence of a functional government the authority to act
with force reverts back to the individual. In order to treat the
patient aboard this ship I shot Grant on the spot.”

Downey overcame a history of self destruction to become one of the most bankable stars in Hollywood. There's no limit of future projects for him to choose from. Instead of making another mindless mass of audio-visual noise he chose to make a real film about real people facing real problems.

Hank Palmer is a very successful defense attorney in Chicago and is openly held in contempt by the local prosecutors. He was to defend a client on the charge of corporate fraud when he receives a call on his I-phone notifying him that his mother has died.

To return home for the funeral was a difficult task as he wasn’t on speaking terms with his father As he explained to his young daughter. “'He's dead to me,' is a figure of speech.”

Hank manages to return home and speak to his father without snapping. But as he was about to return home his father is charged with murder. Seeing that his father’s counsel is not competent to defend him he steps in out of pride to perform the task. Over the course of the investigation and trial the past acts of the characters are revealed and the reasons for their actions become clear.

And it becomes clear that the character of the alleged victim could only be properly described in the language of the gutter. In short, he asked for it.

This is clearly a film for people who enjoy the process of thought, and not a movie for the mindless audience.

Saturday, October 11, 2014

On Sunday afternoon after the worship service at his church John Huhn
sat in prayer within the tiny office within his home. In this he asked
God for guidance about the people who claimed to have come from the
future,

From his own view as a True Christian their claim had to be a lie, and
this was the first of their lies. They openly declared that there was
no God nor had his son Jesus Christ ever lived. They also claimed that
the child who led them was an ancient man reborn.

There was no question these were lies. Clearly these people were the
servants of Satan, the first liar himself. And Huhn had also watched
the Saturday broadcast of The First Line. The host Bill Burke and his
guest Katherine Grant were clearly good and True Christians. Their
account of the murder of the Reverend William Grant and kidnapping of
his daughter Judith struck him to the depths of his very soul.

How could a True Christian respond to these lies? And what was to be done in the long run?

Huhn continued to sit in prayer.

Obviously the lies and their true source had to be exposed. Although
there was a drafting board in his office he decided to use a sketchbook
to do the initial draft of the next small comic book in the series for
distribution to other True Christians.

In the Oval Office President Richard Nixon was seriously wishing that he
could take the day off, or better yet, most of the year off. But he
couldn’t. Many of the Sunday editorials in newspapers from the New York
Times on down were calling for the destruction of the Uptimer ship, the
seizure of their ground base in Nevada, and the prosecution of their
leaders for various crimes.

Were they serious? And how were these miracles to be performed? The various editorial writers clearly didn’t say.

Morons, he thought.

That afternoon Doctor Boatman did rounds in the sick bay aboard the
Eagle. In particular she wanted to check up on Miss Grant. Shortly
into their conversation Judith touched on a topic that was
uncomfortable.

“Alice?”

“Yes?”

“I just read about what happened to you on the Integral.”

Alice nodded with a slight frown.

“And now Burke and my mother are claiming that I’m being used the same way aboard the Eagle, that’s wrong!”

“Yes, it is.” Said Alice.

“So what can be done about it?”

To Alice Boatman the answer was obvious.

“The answer to a lie is to shine the light of truth upon it.”

“Yes.” Said Judith.

The process required to reveal the relevant facts suddenly became clear to her.

“Judith,” said Alice, “I know someone who’s a friend of Mike Wallace at
CBS News, would you be willing to speak to him about what happened to
you?”

“Yes?”

“Okay,” said Alice, “I’ll arrange it right away. Now try to get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that Alice went straight to the command deck. Captain Sterling was on watch when she arrived.

“Denny,” she said, “I need a favor, I need to make a phone call to New York.”

It was clear to him that Doctor Boatman had stated this as a fact and not as a request.

“Who to?” He asked.

“Ayn Rand.”

It was clear that the doctor was dead serious.

“Yes, go ahead.” He replied.

Alice walked over to the communications station on the command deck,
spoke to the petty officer on duty and made the necessary connections.
The first was a digital microwave link to the ground station at
Arlington. The next was the analog telephone link to New York. As the
line rang Alice picked up the connected receiver.

A woman with a clear Russian accent answered.

“Miss Rand? This is Doctor Boatman aboard the Eagle, we met at the meeting in New York.”

“Yes, Evelyn’s daughter. How are you?”

“Good.” Alice replied. “Miss Rand, have you seen this week’s broadcast of The First Line?”

“I normally avoid that trash, but someone gave me a tip on it.” Rand replied. “It was appalling.”

“Well yes, it was,” said Alice, “Miss Grant and I were discussing the contents of that program and we want to respond to it.”

“We?” Said Rand.

“Yes,” said Alice, “I want to specifically respond to the charge that
children are subjected to sexual abuse by Uptimers. And I believe I
must clearly state how we deal with those who do engage in such
conduct.”

Although Alice couldn’t see it over a phone line Ayn Rand had raised
both eyebrows upon hearing this. She had read the Uptimer’s history
report on Mao’s personal conduct and was not at all surprised at his
depravity.

Ayn Rand asked the next question.

“So how can I help?”

“Miss Rand, I believe that you know Mike Wallace at CBS News, if you
could forward him our contact number we should be able to arrange an
interview and sort this mess out.”

Rand nodded.

“Yes, I can do that.”

Thank you.”

Several phone calls later the interview was arranged. A lander would be
sent to Kennedy Airport to pick up Wallace and his crew and bring them
to the Eagle.

Thursday, October 09, 2014

The broadcast of The First Line on that week would be digitally recorded
aboard the Eagle and played for the mission commander and his staff.
Judith Grant would also be present for the staff meeting.

Doctor Alice Boatman was the first to speak after the end of the program.

“‘Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?’”

“I’m sorry,” said Judith, “I don’t understand.”

“The quote was a reference to a historic conflict between secular and
church authority,” said Doctor Boatman, “specifically between King Henry
the Second and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket. It was
alleged that the King had ordered the murder of Becket to resolve the
conflict.”

Judith was speechless.

“Don’t worry,” said Evelyn, “the incident wasn’t covered in secular schools in the United States at this time either.”

“But why did it happen?” Said Judith.

“That is a good question,” said Evelyn, “King Henry saw the English
branch of the Church as an asset of the state and had appointed Becket,
who up to that point was his friend, to run it as such. But Becket
subsequently saw himself as an actual servant of God, and saw himself
and the church as being above the state, including King Henry. Thus the
conflict and the subsequent outcome. So what happened in Dallas? Here
we have William Grant, the Servant of God who was apparently
untouchable by the law. He chose to physically block a medical
evacuation to this ship and prevent us from saving a life. The act was
simply intolerable and the response to it was simply obvious.”

Everyone at the table nodded in agreement.

A thought came to Judith’s mind. Her Uptimer hosts were consistently
thinking and speaking in principles. That some of these people were
personally involved in the incident simply did not matter to them.

These were clearly the children of Reason, she thought.

Boatman continued.

“Now Burke does declare that a homicide had occurred but presents it as
an absolutely depraved act of murder. That he lied about this should
not be a surprise. When Atlas Shrugged was published he printed a
review in his own Conservative magazine, which was written by a former
Communist, had denounced it as a work of propaganda that called for the
extermination of Christians.”

“That’s wrong,” said Judith, “I just read Atlas Shrugged and Rand said no such thing!”

“Correct,” said Evelyn, “ the truth is completely irrelevant to them,
what does matter is belief in and submission to the witch doctor, thus
their twisting of the facts or outright lying. To those who value power
above all else nothing matters, not the truth or the life of another
person, not even of their own child. And had you died as a result of
his actions without an adverse legal consequence it would have
demonstrated his power over the secular authorities. ”

Judith nodded.

Boatman continued.

“And now Burke is openly calling for the legal suppression of Atlas
Shrugged and other works of Objectivist literature regardless of the
truth. And for the seizure of our assets both in space and on the
ground.”

“And what happens if they get their wish?” Said Judith.

“We will respond with deadly force.” Said Boatman. “And with nuclear force.”

Everyone else at the table nodded.

It was after the local sunset when the chartered Aeroflot flight landed
at Baikonur. A very tired and unshaven Mikhail Gorbachev stepped off
the airplane and was met by two men on the ground. The first was
clearly a civilian and the second was a senior Air Force officer.

The civilian spoke.

“Comrade Gorbachev, welcome to Baikonur! I’m Administrator Ivan Taganov and this is General Alexi Leonov.”

Gorbachev’s eye widened as he reached out his hand.

“I’m honored.” He said as he shook hands. And then he spoke again.

“So what do I have to do to prepare?”

“Not much,” said General Leonov, “as a passenger you will need to be
fitted for a pressure suit and go up in an airplane for simulated zero
gravity training, but that’s it.”

“Nothing else?” Said Gorbachev.

“You should have your personal will updated,” said Taganov, “the Proton launcher is not currently man-rated.”

“Oh...”

Neither Taganov or Leonov would at this point mention the failure of the
first attempted launch of the extremely complex N-1 rocket that was
designed by Sergei Korolev for lunar missions.

It was Sunday afternoon in the Bronx when two gentlemen of Sicilian descent would meet with an older gentleman in a bar.

The first of the pair spoke.

“So what do you want, Boss?”

The Mob Captain opened a folder and took out a newspaper photograph.

“Those people from the future are somehow blocking our every effort to
get in on their thing. This is clearly unacceptable and we are sending
them a message. We got orders from upstairs to take out this bitch,
she’s running their office in Washington and it should be a simple job.”

The Mob Captain handed the folder to the two gentlemen

“Okay, Boss.” the first replied and the second nodded.

Evelyn Boatman wasn’t able to sleep, he went outside his cabin for a walk and the think.

It was obvious that things on the ground were getting out of hand. Even
though there was no ethical issue with the summary execution of the
Teamsters goon, a virtual nest of shrieks had been stirred out.

We went up the Command Deck and spoke to the officer of the watch, Lieutenant Krier.

“Jeff, I’ve decided to recall Commander Keller back to the Eagle for
the time being. And want Commander MacDonald to down to take her
place.”

Lieutenant Commander Alan MacDonald was the chief engineer. This was to be a
temporary assignment until the entire mess was properly cleaned up.

Tuesday, October 07, 2014

In a lower orbit the Osprey was performing a photo-reconnaissance
mission over the Soviet Union. On the command deck a photo analyst
spoke to Lieutenant Blume, the commander of the vessel.

“Sir, it appears that the Soviets had a Proton rocket erected and ready
to launch at Baikonur and then they took it down and back to the
assembly hall.”

“Curious.” Said Blume. “You are recording this?”

“Yes sir.”

“Very good.”

In her Arlington office Lieutenant Commander Keller was finishing up for the day when the receptionist buzzed on the intercom.

“Ma’am, there’s a representative of the Teamsters Union here to see you.”

There was no appointment scheduled and Commander Keller had no desire to see any such walking piece of sewage.

“Tell him to go away.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The receptionist spoke again.

“Ma’am, he’s coming through!”

Keller opened a desk drawer and pulled out a M19911A1 pistol. It was
identical to the weapon carried by her ancestor Allen Keller as the
presidential chief of staff and de-facto trouble shooter.

She stood up, switched off the safety on the pistol, and aimed it at the door her office door.

As the door opened and a large and muscular man in a very cheap business
suit and carrying a briefcase stepped inside the office. He was very
surprised to be staring down the muzzle of an old school .45 Automatic.

He spoke with an obviously uneducated accent.

“Is this how you people treat a guest?”

Commander Keller responded.

“You were ordered to leave and you will do so now!”

“No.” He said. “I’m here to...”

He would not finish the sentence. Commander Keller pulled the trigger and the union thug’s head exploded.

“Fuck me...” Keller said softly to herself.

Director Hoover personally made the report on the incident to President Nixon.

“So there is nothing that can be done about the incident?” Said the President.

“No sir.” Hoover replied. “Under normal circumstances Commander Keller
could claim that she was acting in self defense, And under our
agreement with the Uptimers Commander Keller is immune as a diplomat
from prosecution.”

That same afternoon in a public television studio in New York City a red
light mounted upon a television camera went on. The line director of
the program being taped counted down to zero and then gave the command
for action.

The host of the program, Bill Burke, a conservative columnist and publisher, spoke.

“My guest today on The First Line is Katherine Grant, the widow of the
late Reverend William Grant, who was murdered by a time traveling
atheist. Welcome to the program, Mrs. Grant.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and replied.

The program would be broadcast on numerous public television stations on the following Saturday morning.

On that evening in the restaurant of a upper class hotel Washington
Jimmy Hoffa, the head of the Teamsters, was having dinner with an old
Sicilian friend.

“Can you believe it? That bitch doesn’t let my man have a chance to speak for himself and then she blows him away.”

The Sicilian friend quietly shook his head.

“Not only that,” said Hoffa, “out in Nevada when my people try to get in
on their projects they are told to fuck off. They’re saying that to
everyone with a union connection! Where do they get off on that?”

The friend was fully aware of the problems the Mafia was also having with the Uptimers in Nevada.

“That is wrong.” He said.

“And what’s more,” said Hoffa, “when one my guys says them will do one
of those non-violent demonstrations like the niggers used to do, a
teenage punk in a uniform comes out to the gate and tells him that they
will kill all of them if do it. Can you fucking believe that?”

“That is clearly wrong.” The friend replied.

The commander of the reinforced Ranger company, Major Nathan Benson had
personally come out to the gate to speak to the Teamsters. He made it
very clear to the union thugs how the Uptimers would respond to any
coercive action on their part.

With absolute deadly force.

“So what do I do?” Said Hoffa.

“Are you asking us for a favor?” Said the friend.

“Yes, to make an example of the bitch.”

The friend thought for a moment, this action would also serve the interests of the Mafia, and he nodded.

“Yes, it will be done.”

In his home Congressman Bush was spending another evening studying the
history of The Reformation. And once again he was reading from the
works of Allen Keller.

A primary result of the programs of the Great Society was that Black
Americans were strongly encouraged to continue to think of themselves as
collective victims and as being separate from Americans in general.
This belief was strongly encouraged by collectivist intellectuals and a
group of Black race hustlers that would eventually be labeled by
rational critics as The Klan With A Tan.

With the belief in racial separatism came the belief in racial
supremacy. And with racial supremacy came the belief that laws enacted
to protect the rights of all persons do not apply to members the
superior race. This behavior was manifested as a high rate of crimes
committed against both members of their own community and against
non-members of their race. During the violent phase of The Reformation
race based criminal gangs made a special effort to oppress, plunder, and
murder non-blacks. And as with most racial collectivists, a special
emphasis was made towards the commission of crimes against Jews.

Although many Black Americans have stepped forth to embrace The
Reformation there remain many who continue to hold a burning hatred for
those outside of their race.

“Let me get this straight,” he said, “two Soviet agents have just defected to the Uptimers in Nevada?”

“Yes, sir.” Director Hoover replied. “They drove right up to the front gate.”

“Why?”

“Apparently they had a run in with four hoods down in Carson City and decided to seek shelter afterwards.”

“What happened to the hoods?”

“They’re dead.”

The President asked more questions.

“So why were Soviet agents in Carson City and why did they run into the hoods?”

“According to the agents who are doing the debriefing, the Soviets went to the state capital because it was the local political center, and they also decided to extend their operating funds by playing poker.”

Nixon nodded. As a junior naval officer in the Pacific Theater he also raised personal funds by playing poker. And some of his winnings were used to finance his first congressional campaign in California.

The President asked another question.

“So what can the Soviet agents be charged with?”

“They did enter the country on forged documents, but they haven’t committed any acts of actual espionage, and they are now cooperating with the bureau.” Hoover replied. “There are the local charges of homicide with respect to the hoods, but they were acting in self defense and should get off if it came to a trial.”

“So nothing?” Said President Nixon.

“Correct, sir.” Said Director Hoover.

The intercom buzzed. It was the Presidential secretary Miss Woods.

“Mr. President, the Soviet Ambassador is here.”

“Thank you, Miss Woods, send him in.”

“I’m afraid I have to speak to him.” Said the President.

“Yes sir, I understand.” Said Director Hoover.

Hoover let himself out a side door before the Soviet Ambassador entered.

Once the pleasantries with Ambassador Dobrynin were complete they got on the official business.

“Mr. President, we have a delegation waiting in New York for permission to visit the Star People at the settlement in Nevada.”

“I’m sorry Anatoly,” said the President, “The Uptimers have made it very clear that they don’t want to talk to you.”

“To the Soviet Union?”

“Specifically to any representative of the Soviet Union or of any other Communist state.”

“Did they explain why, Mr. President?”

“Yes, the leader of the Uptimers said that Communism is a moral and political dead end, and until that doctrine is dropped there is simply no point in speaking to any representative of such a state.”

Ambassador Dobrynin frowned.

“I’m afraid that your delegation will have to go home.” Said the President.

“That is regrettable.” Ambassador Dobrynin replied sadly.

On the next morning in Moscow the Politburo met. The fate of the intelligence officers were not on the agenda as neither the KGB or the GRU had been notified of their defections.

The Foreign Minister began with the report of the failure of the attempt by Comrade Gorbachev to contact the Star People at their base in Nevada. He was followed by the Defense Minister, Marshall Grechko.

“The weapon is now ready for launch, but some of our people at Baikonur are strongly suggesting that a manned capsule be sent up instead to contact the Star People instead.”

“Oh, they have?” General Secretary Brezhnev replied.

“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”

Brezhnev thought for a moment. Rumors of a weapon launch had been flying about the Kremlin since the order was given. With the rumors came the speculation of outcome of the strike and how the Star People would respond.

The operation was expected by many within the Kremlin to fail and that the Star People would respond adversely. Very adversely.

Brezhnev made a decision.

“Fine,” he said, “refit the rocket to carry a Soyuz capsule.”

“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.” Marshall Grechko replied.

“And was there a suggestion as to who would go up on this mission?”

“Yes, Comrade General Secretary. Cosmonaut Alexi Leonov was proposed to be the mission commander. The second seat to expected to be filled with a volunteer.”

Brezhnev thought for a moment and then replied.

“That shouldn’t be necessary.” He said. “Send Comrade Gorbachev to Baikonur. He will go up to speak to the Star People.”

“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”

Near the entrance of the Uptimer base two casually dressed men were sitting in a green Oldsmobile Toronado with the windows down. The man in the driver’s seat spoke to his partner.

“Hey Joey, am I imagining things or are there other guys on the lookout here?”

“Whadda you mean?”

“There’s an old Fairlane and a Camaro also parked out here with guys sitting in them.”

“No idea.”

British agent John Cross was also on site but as a total professional he was not visible to the occupants of the Camaro, Fairlane, and Toronado.

Morons, he thought.

The Frenchman in the Camaro was not following the proper form of the espionage trade craft. But then why should he? It wasn’t as if he were up against the Soviets in East Berlin. He was only up against simple Americans.

So what? He felt. They are imbeciles who weren’t worth the trouble.

Mr. Black in his Ford Fairlane was trying to remain concealed but the fact that he was in virtual middle of nowhere. He quickly came to the conclusion that would not be able to quietly connect and use the people inside the base to carry out the goals of The Committee.

Sunday, October 05, 2014

Outside the gate of the Uptime base at Area 51 there was a cluster of
small commercial buildings which included two gas stations, a diner and a
small grocery store. And for the moment there was also a deep red wine
colored Lincoln parked outside with the air conditioner running. The
two gentlemen sitting within were having a conversation.

“It's impossible, Michael! We can't get anyone inside for any amount of
time. They have some kind of magic trick, every time we sent a new guy
in within three days they spot him and ask him to leave and never come
back. I have no idea how they do it!”

“I haven't any idea myself.” Replied Michael Andolini.

The two gentlemen watched as a commercial tractor pulling a flatbed
trailer came up to the gate. The trailer carried a load of steel
reinforcement bars for a construction project within the base.

“And will you look at that! They use only non-union workers and
truckers. And all of their suppliers have no connection to any family
at all! How do they do it?”

“I don't know, John.” Andolini replied. “I don't know.”

Andolini then asked a question.

“So what happened down in Carson City?”

“Damned if I know, Mike. There were two guys who were cleaning out the
suckers at poker and one of my soldiers and three associates met with
them to straighten them out. The next thing is that my men are dead the
two guys are gone. And then the man I have on lookout here sees their
car drive straight up to the gate here and they let them in. They're
still in there.”

“Something will have to done about that.” Said Michael Andolini.

The gentlemen watched as another truckload of rebar was delivered to the gate.

Yuri and Josef were wearing visitor badges with their FBI escort as they
entered the line at the mess hall for lunch. They were astounded when
they allowed entry. And very astounded when they were not disarmed.

Yuri had asked the Ranger Lieutenant who initially met them why.

“We're all citizens here.”

“I don't understand.” Said Joe.

“If you think about it, you will.” The Lieutenant replied.

The two former Soviet officers brought up the question with their FBI escort.

“Damned if I know,” he said, “I'm still trying to figure them out myself.”

In the mess line Yuri had another question for their escort.

“So what should we eat for lunch?”

“Try the Swedish Meatballs.”

“Okay.”

In the study of his Washington home Congressman George Bush was reading a
file on Uptime history. He had been cleared for full information of
the future and issued a laptop computer by the Uptimers. Tonight he was
doing research on the topic of race relations in the future and what he
found was clearly disturbing.

The Great Society and the subsequent programs of Democratic
administrations had fostered a separate and clearly irrational identity
for Blacks along with a state of dependency on the Democratic Party.
When a civil war broke out after the assassination of President Elect
Chapman the vast major of Blacks would support President Null. And some
of the Black supporters would do so in an absolutely appalling way.

Bush was reading a report written by Presidential Chief of Staff Allen
Keller on the aftermath of the Siege of Chicago. Chicago--along with
Gary, Indiana—had formed one of the longest duration sieges during
combat operations of The Reformation. And what was found inside the
perimeter after the fall nothing less than appalling.

During the siege a group of Black criminals, called the Null Boyz, had
been recruited to act as enforcers for the Null faction within the
perimeter. Whites, Asians and especially Jews were the primary targets
of their actions which were primarily robbery and murder. In no way did
they contribute to the defense of the Chicago Pocket and were
ultimately captured alive.

Keller had met with the surviving members of the Null Boyz with his
personal protective group, Israeli soldiers who had been rescued with
their families from the remnant of their homeland after the nuclear
bombing by the French government.

Bush read Keller's account of what followed.

This group did not have the appearance of a beaten foe. Nor did they
appear to have starved at all during the course of the siege. Although
they have been issued uniforms by the faction they were not in anything
close to compliance to a uniform regulation. As with other political
enforcers in history, such as the SS, they had made up their own ranks
and insignia.

With this group gathered together I read a summarized account of their
actions—which included rape, robbery and murder--during the siege.

And then I asked why.

The apparent leader replied.

“Why? There is no why, motherfucker!”

I could swear that I could hear the security group move in response.

During the Holocaust a camp guard had performed a trivial act of
oppression on an inmate. When the inmate had asked why, the response
was: “There is no why.”

At this point I had set a mental trap for the leader that took advantage of his ignorance.

“So you are the Superior Race, and you rightfully can do anything to anyone?”

The gang leader had replied essentially as I expected.

“That's right Motherfucker! We are the Superior Race! What you and your faggot kikes gonna to do about it?”

At this point I pulled out my .45 and placed a round in his head. I
then turned to the group leader and ordered him to finish the off the
gang.

Friday, October 03, 2014

On Sunday morning the sky was clear over the town of Najaf in Iraq. On a residential street an apparently slovenly man of arabic appearance opened a briefcase and brought out a device. In some respects the device resembled a small movie camera without a film magazine. The man looked through the viewfinder at a particular house. With the red dot in the view was lined up on a specific house he pressed down on a button.

In a low orbit over the region the spacecraft Kite, sister ship to the Falcon, was at action stations.

On the command deck a sensor operator spoke.

“The target is illuminated.”

Lieutenant Douglas Siekmann, the commander of the vessel, responded.

“Commence fire.”

The sky over Najaf lit up as multiple laser beams instantly flashed into and out of existence. When the ashes and rubble of the house had reached the level of the street the barrage of light stopped.

Under the cover of confusion by the local authorities the slovenly man quietly packed the laser designator in it’s case and departed.

On the command deck of the Kite, Lieutenant Siekmann spoke.

“The monster is down, let’s return to base.”

On the morning of the following Tuesday a brief meeting was held in Teheran. The Shah of Iran met with the ambassador from the Republic of Iraq.

“Your Majesty, there has been a terrible incident in Najaf. We have been attacked by the Sky People and one of your subjects, the Ayatollah Khomeini was killed.”

The Shah raised an eyebrow.

“So? How does this concern us?”

The ambassador was taken aback, he expected some appearance of sympathy from the Shah.”

“Your Majesty, a senior cleric from this nation was murdered by the Sky People, this is clearly an attack on Islam!”

“No Mr. Ambassador, this was the elimination of a monster.”

The Shah had read the information package brought to him by the CIA. He had been appalled to read of the dark age misrule and general destruction brought upon the nation by Khomeini and his followers. A specific point of disgust was the use of children by the Khomeini regime to clear minefields by deliberate detonation in a clearly useless war.

There was simply no excuse for their actions.

“Mr. Ambassador, Khomeini was an inhuman monster, he was clearly what our Western friends call an Enemy of Mankind. And apparently your government has not been notified of the future destruction that this monster would have brought on to your nation.”

The ambassador was struck speechless.

“Was there anything else, Mr. Ambassador?”

The Shah’s next meeting was with the head of SHAVAK, the imperial security service. It was here that he gave the order to start the planned operation to round up and execute the remaining followers of Khomeini. The information package from the CIA was quite detailed as to the members of this group and the adverse effect they would have upon the nation. By the next sunrise of not one of the men so targeted would remain alive.

In Carson City, Nevada on that evening Yuri and Josef, the two Soviet intelligence officers, were departing from another casino after having cleaned out a third table of American suckers at poker.

They were met in the parking lot by four very large Sicilian Gentlemen.

Fuck your Mother, thought Yuri.

“You boys have been very lucky, too lucky.” Said the lead goon.

“Well, your luck has run out.” Said the second goon.

Yuri responded.

“Look, if you want us to leave, we’ll leave.”

“Yes.” Said Josef. “We’ll leave, no problem.”

“Well there is a problem,” said the lead goon, “it’s the money you took from the suckers, our money.”

The second goon spoke.

“We want it, we want it all, right now!”

Yuri made a decision.

“That’s too bad.” He said.

This was one of their agreed upon code words for the use of deadly force. Both officers brought out their weapons, Browning High Power pistols quietly bought by their agencies on the open market and quickly performed the what would eventually be called the Mozambique Drill on the four goons.

Two rounds to the body and one to the head, each.

“Now what?” Said Josef.

“We leave, right now!”

With Josef at the wheel they departed from the parking lot of the casino and returned to their own lodgings. In the parking lot of their hotel they discussed their next move.

“So what now?” Said Josef. “Our respective missions are blown.”

“How can you say that?” Said Yuri.

“We’re supposed to set up a forward base and try to recruit people inside the Uptimer base to work for us, all while on the run from both the police and the local mob? How can we do all of that?”

“Well we can’t go home.” Said Yuri. “We would be taken out and shot.”

“You would be taken out and shot.” Josef replied. “Our officers are incinerated alive with the office trash.”

Yuri stared in shock at his GRU counterpart.

“Yes,” said Josef, “when we start duty at the Aquarium they show new intelligence officers a film of an officer being burned alive with the trash.”

“I believe you.” Said Yuri. “What do we do now? Drive up to their front gate and ask them for sanctuary?”

Thursday, October 02, 2014

The answer is that they are following orders of their political masters without any thought at all. And the political masters will not identify and attack the source of the problem, which is Islam. Until we are absolutely ready and willing to identify and treat the false creed of Islam as being fundamentally toxic to human life then no solution to the problem of war and terror is possible.

It was a quiet Saturday morning at the Nevada Base as Harry Barnes fired up his personal laptop computer. It had been issued one by the Uptimers for his own use from the stockpile they brought along for the mission to the Solar System.

At first he checked the base network for news. Seeing that the Soviets had decided not to launch a first strike on the United States, and that the first of the prisoners of war rescued from North Vietnam were returning to their families here in the mainland, he brought up the word processor program. For the first draft of the paper he decided to use Times New Roman instead of the Courier New font.

To understand the actions of the Uptimers requires knowledge of the nature and purpose of Government. In both cases, the action against the police in Minneapolis and the execution of William Grant in Dallas, the individuals from Uptime were responding to the failure of the local police agencies. Although the Uptimers had agreed to follow the laws of the United States in both cases the local agencies that upheld those laws were clearly not functioning.

In both cases the Uptimers had found themselves in a practical state of anarchy.

In Minneapolis the failure began when the patrol officers were not informed of the visit of Mission Commander Evelyn Boatman to several high technology firms in the Twin Cities area and of his specific physical condition. This was inexcusable as the Saint Paul Police Department had informed their patrol officers of the visit without any difficulty. The second point of failure was the overtly hostile and unprofessional attitude taken with respect to Commander Boatman and his escort from NASA which was followed by a physical assault.

Under the circumstances Commander Boatman had no choice but to use deadly force to protect himself.

The third point of failure was during the mission by the Uptimers to retrieve Commander Boatman from the city. The Federal Authorities had ordered the Minneapolis Police to stand down as the Commander and his NASA escort boarded the lander sent to retrieve them. But a police marksman had taken it upon himself to shoot Commander Boatman in the back with a scoped rifle. With their commander down the squad of Rangers proceeded to clear the area of the landing zone of apparent hostiles.

The summary execution of the televangelist William Grant in the city of Dallas was again a response to the failure of the function of local government.

Judith Grant, the daughter of the televangelist, was brought into the Emergency Room of Parkland Hospital with severe injuries inflicted by her father in a beating. When the doctor who treated her requested the arrest of the assailant the policeman present refused because of Grant's local political connections. When the doctor informed the policeman that Judith could die of her injuries the officer responded by saying that an innocent man would be found and prosecuted for the crime.

The circumstances of the incident were far more disgusting. Judith had been beaten to a pulp for possessing a paperback copy of Atlas Shrugged. And what the policeman actually told Doctor Goldman in the ER was disgusting beyond belief.

Doctor Barnes continued to write.

The ER Physician had called upon the Uptimers for assistance and the Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Alice Boatman had arrived at Parkland Hospital by lander and upon consulting with the ER Physician the decision was made to transfer Judith to the starship Eagle for further treatment. It was at this time that the televangelist William Grant had entered the ER and physically blocked the transfer of the patient.

The Dallas police officers present refused to remove the physically and now verbally abusive father from the path of the Uptimers, it was at this point that Doctor Boatman used her personal weapon to perform a Saigon Special on William Grant.

As the Objectivist representative to the Uptimers Doctor Barnes had been made aware of the Doctor Boatman's personal background and the appalling circumstances of her early life. That she had grown up to be a fully rational woman was nothing short of amazing. That she had calmly treated her encounter with the televangelist as a clinical problem, such as the removal of a cancerous tumor, was in some respects frightening.

Harry then sat back and thought. The next part of the article would place the actions of the Uptimers in context.

The future colonists of Alpha Centauri properly hold that the use of retaliatory force must be placed under objective control and thus delegated to government in a rational society. But in both cases the local government had failed to carry out this function. As a result of this failure the Uptimers hold that the authority and responsibility to act with force reverts back to the individual. As an example they cite the actions of General Loan during the Tet Offensive in Vietnam.

The situation on this day in Saigon was pure chaos. No one on the ground could have been sure that there would be a functioning government on the next day. Into this situation a Viet Cong terrorist had been captured after he murdered the family of a National Police officer. General Loan as the commander of the National Police had no idea if the terrorist could ever be prosecuted and punished for his actions. So in the absence of a clearly functional authority he personally carried out the judgment and execution of the murderer.

It was no secret on the base that the Uptimers view General Loan as a hero.